


Born for the Job

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All good conspiracies depend on finding just the right person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born for the Job

Sergei Vortakis surveyed the half-empty bar.

Yes. There, at the end. Perfect. Tall and well built. Dark hair in tossed curls. Golden-tanned skin. Big, innocent dark brown eyes.

That innocence was just what he wanted. This was going to be so easy.

He sidled up to the next stool and gave a cheery smile, “Lord Ivan? It is you, isn’t it? Lord Ivan Vorpatril? We met at the Midsummer Ball.”

His target seemed confused for a moment, then smiled sweetly, “Of course. Remember it well.”

That was good, since they’d never met before. The research was correct, this dolt would be perfect.

“We had such an interesting talk that night. About your cousin, the emperor. It must be so difficult, being so close to the throne.”

“Well, not that close, really, I mean he was right over on the other side of the room…”

“Let me buy you another drink.”

It was going to be a long evening. Fortunately the big blockhead would talk, or at least listen, for as long as the drinks kept coming. It was time to plant the seeds.

“It must seem so unfair, that an accident of birth put him on the throne and you… nowhere.”

“Not an accident, my parents planned me.”

Sergei didn’t think anyone could plan for this fool. He must have come as a horrible shock.

“I suppose you’ve had a lot of time to watch him doing the job. Of Emperor, I mean. You’d probably know enough to do it yourself.”

“I know enough to know I don’t want to do it.”

“Of course. And just to think that way would be a crime, of course. But…as a man near the top of the line, I’m sure you’ve wondered what you’d do if all that power came down to you, I mean if there was some horrible accident, heaven forbid of course.”

“I know what I’d do. I’d hide under the bed. All that power can pass me by and go on down the line.”

“You’d need people to help you, of course. Good friends who could advise you.”

This idiot was immune to subtlety. Normally he’d start with just the tiniest hint, a mere whisper of a suggestion, and work up to more over weeks, months, even a year or so. But with this fool you’d have to hit him over the head with a sledgehammer to make even a slight impression. On the other hand, he was so trusting that it’d probably only take a week or so to become his best friend in the world. His helpful best friend. They could set the plans in motion so much sooner than he’d feared.

“Can never have too many friends.” The level in his glass fell rapidly. Sergei ordered another bottle.

“Do you like hunting, Lord Ivan? I’m having a few friends down to my place in the country for a little hunting weekend. I’d love it if you came along and met everyone. It’s a great bunch of men, all real patriots. Supporters of the true Barrayar.”

“Hunting? Love hunting. Let’s hunt for ‘nother bottle.”

After another hour of hints and drinks Sergei poured the lord into a hovercab and sent him home with assurances of eternal friendship. Mission accomplished. Contact had been made.

In the cab Ivan groaned, fumbled in his pocket for a couple of sober-pills, and then started to mutter information into his wrist-com. The one that went direct to Impsec.

That was the second one this month, it must be treason season. He sighed, and wondered why everyone who wanted to toss Gregor out and install Ivan as Emperor always bought such cheap wine. Maybe you could judge a conspiracy by the standard of the booze involved.

He was still working on that theory when he fell asleep in the cab. Being treason-bait is a tough job.


End file.
